


TLC

by sarahcakes613



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Common Cold, Fluff, M/M, Well mostly everyone lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 13:58:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13342686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Ori has a cold, and Fili is there to help him through it.





	TLC

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seashadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/gifts).



> I originally posted this two years ago and never finished it. Whoops. My writing style has changed quite a lot since then, so I've completely rewritten it and hey, it has an ending now! I've also made it a one-shot, as I wasn't really happy with the chapter breaks. Happy birthday, Channukah, another birthday, another Channukah, and even one more birthday and Channukah, Seas!

It is the wee hours of the night when Ori wakes with a start. He’s cold, and he feels...wet?! Oh Mahal, has he wet himself like some dwarfling?

"Dori?" Ori whispers.

Dori’s always been a light sleeper, and he immediately turns over onto one elbow, facing Ori. "Ori, what's wrong?"

"I don't know; I don't feel good." Ori is shivering now, his teeth chattering.

Dori lays a hand on Ori's forehead. "Mahal, you're burning up! Try to sit up, let's get you out of this tunic, it's drenched in sweat!"

Sweat, Ori thinks with relief. He hasn't wet himself, he’s just sweaty. He hoists himself up into a seated position, using Dori's arm for support. Together, they remove Ori's tunic and Dori pulls at one of the blankets around them, using a corner to pat down Ori's torso and forehead.

"Dori, it hurts." Ori whimpers.

"What hurts, _sannadadith_?" Dori asks.

"Everything. My head feels all stuffed up with goose feathers, and I'm cold and hot all at the same time."

Dori sucks his teeth in a tsk. "No doubt you caught something in the mountains. Lie down, and try to sleep. We'll have Oin look at you in the morning." Ori obeys, letting Dori draw him into a cuddle. Dori has removed his own tunic, and his skin feels marvellously cool against Ori's. Held in place by Dori, Ori feels his shaking slowly subside and he finally drifts back to sleep.

When Ori next wakes, it is to the feeling of Oin's gnarled hands probing his throat. He blearily opens his eyes, peering up at the healer. He wants to ask what is wrong with him, but he finds the words sticking in his throat, and all that comes out is a hoarse "ehhhh".

"Don't try to talk, lad," Oin advises. "Your throat's a bit swollen, and it sounds to me like you may have a minor infection working through your lungs."

"Have you anything for it?" Dori asks, while helping Ori into a sitting position.

"Aye, I would have, but I lost most of my stores back in Goblintown. They're common enough herbs and the Menfolk use it as well. I'll ask Beorn if he's got any."

As Oin walks off to find Beorn, Dori turns back to Ori, laying a cooling hand on his forehead. "Do you think you can handle breakfast, Ori? How about some lovely warm tea, hm?"

"Dori, Thorin wants to talk to you." Fili interrupts.

"Oh dear," Dori frets, still focussed on Ori. "Can't it wait?"

Fili shrugs. "I think he's worried about the clothing situation. Beorn's got plenty to spare, but nothing to our size. You're the most skilled of us with a needle and thread."

Dori looks down at Ori, and then back to Fili. "Very well," he purses his lips. "Fili, could you please bring Ori some of the leftover oatmeal? And put lots of honey in it, for his throat."

"I'm on it!" Fili grins. "I used to help Mam whenever Kili was sick!"

Dori lifts Ori out of the bedroll and carries him over to the table, a blanket still wrapped around him, Fili trailing behind. Ori hasn't felt this embarrassed since the last time he really had wet the bed, when he was just a baby. And what was Dori thinking, asking the PRINCE to help feed him, like some sort of nursemaid? Why couldn't he have asked Nori, or Bifur? Fili doesn't seem to mind though, he’s already rummaging around in the kitchen, getting utensils out and poking at the embers under the pot to make sure the morning's porridge hasn't gone cold.

When everything is arranged on a tray to his liking, Fili carefully carries Ori's breakfast over to him, and sets it down on the table. Ori smiles shyly, nodding his thanks. He picks up the spoon to feed himself, but realises fairly quickly that it won’t work, he’s shaking all over again and can’t control the path of the cutlery. He heaves a sigh, and looks up at Fili beseechingly. "Can you get Nori?" He whispers. Fili leans down to better hear him, and looks at him, confused. Ori gestures with the spoon, and raises his hands for Fili to see the tremors. Comprehension dawns on Fili's face.

"I think Nori is still busy with Dwalin and Gloin, but I can help you!" Fili hoists himself onto the table, sitting facing outwards, next to the breakfast tray. Ori can feel himself redden all over, and he knows this time it isn’t the illness. "Open up!" Fili says cheerfully, a spoonful of porridge now hovering in front of Ori's face. Ori opens his mouth obediently and lets Fili gently feed him three spoonfuls of the honey-laden dish. It is sweet, and cloying, and after the third mouthful, Ori can feel his throat starting to clog up. Shaking his head at the next offered spoonful, Ori looks up at Fili, who is sitting on the table just as if he were in the throne room of Erebor.

Ori's hands itch to draw Fili just like this, his face deep in concentration, his skilled hands holding the bowl and spoon. Only, instead of a bowl and spoon, Ori would have him holding the signs of his station, a sceptre, and his axe.

It isn't much, but the few bites of porridge fill Ori's stomach, and he feels sleep creeping back into his eyes the way it does after a large feast. His head starts to droop, and noticing this, Fili hops down from the table, holding his arms out. "Come on, Ori, let's get you back into bed." Ori's blanket has fallen from his shoulders, and he tugs it back up, blushing at the thought of Fili's eyes on his unclothed torso. Fili doesn't seem to notice this, and holding Ori around the waist with one arm, he leads them both back to where the bedrolls and blankets have been set up. Ori is relieved to see that someone has removed the sweat-soaked blankets of the night before, and replaced them with freshly laundered ones.

As Ori gets himself comfortably arranged in the nest of blankets, he is startled to realise that Fili is removing his own tunic, and pulling his hair back into a night bun. "Fili, I'm okay, really." Ori protests weakly. "I don't need you to lay here with me, I'm sure you have more interesting things to do."

"It will help," Fili said. "There was this one time when we were travelling to visit some of Adad's relations, and Kili fell sick. Mam had me get one of the Mannish healers, only they call them apothecaries." From the way Fili's mouth forms around the syllables of the Common Tongue word, Ori can tell he'd probably practised the pronunciation over and over when he first learned it. "The apothecary had me and Adad get into bed with Ki, and he said our body heat would help strengthen Ki's own body to fight the illness. It worked, so I'll lie with you until Oin returns with those herbs."

Relenting, Ori shifts to make space for Fili. Fili lies down next to Ori and turns onto his side, draping one arm over Ori's stomach. The weight of Fili's arm feels reassuring, and as Ori lies there on his back, he tries desperately not to focus on Fili's scent, or the splayed fingers now curled in the hair on his stomach. He tries, and fails, not to focus on Fili's breathing as it slows and evens, signalling that Fili is already halfway to dreamland. Shifting a bit, taking care not to jostle Fili's hand, Ori turns to face away from Fili, and lets sleep claim him once again.

The next time Ori wakes, it is to the realisation that he is quite literally stuck. He’s facing Fili now, and the blankets have shifted underneath them both, creating a swaddling effect. Cosy as it is, Ori's bladder is demanding attention. Ori shifts his feet to try and free them, but it doesn't work, and instead of getting loose from the blankets, one of Ori's feet makes connection with Fili's ankle. Fili opens his eyes hazily, smiles sleepily at Ori. "I'm sorry," Ori babbles, his throat burning with the effort of talking. "I didn't mean for you to spend half the day in bed like this!"

"No worries," replies Fili. "It was a nice change from running through mountains and fighting goblins!" Ori hiccups in laughter at that, which causes his bladder to jump back to attention.

"Oh, please don't make me laugh when I have to make water." Ori groans. Squirming a little, Fili manages to yank at the blankets that are keeping them in position, and stretches his legs out before jumping lithely up into a standing position. Leaning down, he pulls Ori up to standing as well, and then gently lets go to see if Ori can stand on his own. Ori teeters a moment before gaining his equilibrium. Fili grins at this.

"Well done! I don't imagine you'd have wanted me holding you while you went about your business. Come on, I'll walk you to the privy, make sure you don't fall in." They make their way slowly, and Fili waits outside the outhouse for Ori to finish. "Oin stopped by while you were sleeping," Fili tells Ori. "Beorn had the herbs on hand that Oin needed to make a draught for you. I'm to make sure you drink the whole thing."

When they get back to their resting place, Ori sits down, legs curled under him Haradrim-style, while Fili fetches the mug of medicine tea that Oin had prepared. Fili hands the mug to Ori, nose wrinkled. "It smells like Dwalin's socks!" Fili remarks.

Ori hesitantly takes a whiff, and has to suppress a gag. "I don't think I can drink that." He whimpers, not caring in the moment that he sounds like a petulant child.

Fili's brow creases in concern. "Should I get Dori?" he asks, "one of us could hold you while the other pours it down your throat, get it done in one go."

"No!" Ori whispers as loudly as his sore throat will allow. He has terrible visions of childhood illnesses, Nori cornering him while Dori pinches his nose to make him swallow his medicine. "I can manage, I'll just close my eyes and pretend it's a good ale."

"That's the spirit!" Fili cheers, squatting down next to him.

Ori lifts the mug to his lips and tilts his head back to let the liquid pour down his throat. As soon as he's emptied the mug, he gasps, wheezing out "Oh Ma-HAL that is disgusting!"

"Oin said that one dose should be enough to nip the infection before it takes root, so there's that at least." Fili comments, beaming at Ori. "You should be fine by tomorrow evening."

It isn't that Ori enjoys feeling ill, but hearing that he'd probably be better so soon leaves him feeling oddly disappointed. He's never spent a whole lot of time with Fili before, and he has been enjoying the prince's company. As he is mulling this over in his head, Kili bounds up to them to let them know that supper is ready.

"It's brilliant!" Kili crows. "Bilbo's taken over Beorn's kitchen, only he's too small for everything, so he's been bossing Beorn around and telling him what to do!" Ori grins at the image of Bilbo standing surrounded by oversized kitchen furniture, one hand on his hip while the other waved a spatula at Beorn. What a drawing that would make!

"Don't get up, Ori." Fili tells him, "I'll fetch us a tray and we can eat in here." Ori nods gratefully, and Fili and Kili go into the dining room, where Beorn, under Bilbo's watchful eye, is placing steaming hot dishes of food on every inch of the enormous table.

"Oh, Fili!" Bilbo calls out. "I've prepared some of my Uncle Rudigar's famous Sickman's Stew, it's well known amongst Shirefolk for curing just about anything that might ail you. And," he continues, lowering his voice so Fili has to lean in close, "I mushed up all the green bits so Ori wouldn't notice them." He grins at Fili, eyes sparkling. It’s clear to Fili that Bilbo feels more in his element now than he has at any point so far on the journey.

"Thanks Bilbo!" Fili says, "I'll take him the stew and some biscuits, I don't want to put anything too heavy in front of him yet."

Food prepared and tray ready, Fili carefully carries their supper back to Ori, who has piled up some pillows to serve as a makeshift table. He props the tray up on the pillows and sits down across from Ori. Ori's eyes search the tray questioningly. "The stew is for you," Fili explains, "and the biscuits, they're the kind we ate in Bag End."

"Aren't you eating?" Ori asks quietly. "I'll have some biscuits, but I'm not terribly hungry." Fili replies. "To be honest, my stomach is still a bit flippity flop from riding an eagle, even if it was three days ago already!"

Ori is pleased to see that his hands are now steady enough to feed himself, and he spoons some stew onto one of the piping hot biscuits, eying it suspiciously, inspecting it for any sign of vegetation. Fili crams some biscuit into his mouth to hide his grin, Bilbo had been right to disguise the vegetables! They eat in companionable silence for some minutes, and Fili takes the opportunity to watch Ori.

He doesn't like seeing his friend feeling so poorly, but he can't deny being somewhat glad for the chance to spend time in close proximity without having to worry about needing to run at a moment's notice. He knows his place as Thorin's heir, and he knows what that means for his future, but this journey has been a chance for all of them. Ori's role as chronicler is already proving to be valuable and perhaps Thorin will reward him with a title. The king's heir can't court a lowly scribe, but he could woo a titled one.

_14 months later_

Fili stands at attention just behind and to the right of Thorin. It’s been a full year since they reclaimed Erebor and the restoration has been going on at a steady pace to get everything ready for this moment. Thorin’s initial coronation had been a hasty battlefield moment, but the mountain has been rebuilt and Thorin has deemed the first anniversary of the final battle to be the right moment for a proper kingly affair, with representatives from all the dwarven kingdoms in attendance. Fili even sees Thranduil and a small contingent of Mirkwood elves, though he does not see the telltale red of Tauriel’s hair, nor does he espy the princeling Legolas. He glances over to his left, forgetting briefly that there is an empty space where Kili should be standing.

He turns his eyes back to the hall and this time he focuses on the row of dwarves standing front and centre. They are what remains of Thorin’s company, and his chest swells with pride at the sight. These few who stood by his uncle when all others were unwilling. Today is not just a coronation, it is a day of lauding, and they each will be receiving their just reward of gold and title. Fili’s heart swells a little more when he catches Ori’s eye.

Ori, standing at the end of the row, ink-stained fingers and hair in messy braids because he’d fallen asleep in the library again. Ori, soon to be Ori, Chief Scrivener and Second Thane of the house of Orison. Not that he will retain that particular title for long, because tonight, when he’s got enough mead in him, Fili fully intends to present Ori with a courting bead.

He can feel it, sitting heavy in his pocket. It’s simple, carved from a piece of wood that Fili had idly picked up as the company was leaving Beorn’s home so many months ago. Thorin had offered him his pick of an heirloom bead, but this had meaning behind it, and Fili thinks, hopes, that Ori will understand the promise it represents. The promise to always be there, through sickness and health.


End file.
